


at the speed of light

by princesskay



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23229646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: When Holden takes on additional teaching responsibilities along with their regular workload, the time apart starts to put a strain on he and Bill's relationship.
Relationships: Holden Ford/Bill Tench
Comments: 12
Kudos: 65





	at the speed of light

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt that I received from anonymous on tumblr: holden decides to go back to uni (for like a semester or something idk) + he’s working so he has weird schedules and bill doesn’t get to see him as much as he used to but feels silly about it. anyways just bill wanting to get some holden time. Whoever you are, thanks for the inspo! <3

Bill had been unduly confident in the idea that once the study was completed, the data synthesized, and the book published, their lives might slow down and the stress level might be more manageable. He’d thought the workload might decrease once they weren’t doing interviews and consults at the same time, and that he and Holden might not have to endure being apart for days, sometimes more than a week, at a time. In retrospect, that had been foolishly optimistic. 

The manual they published from the interviews turned out to be a massive success. It was purchased by nearly every precinct they’d ever assisted in investigations, and then some. Academics bought it. Regular people interested in psychology bought it. A few psychopaths probably bought it, too. Suddenly, the entire world was buying into their ideas that they’d been pushing past the skeptical FBI department heads for the past several years. In the year that followed, the requests that they received from local police tripled. And the demand for Holden to come out for speaking engagements became something of an issue, at least to Bill. 

_ They’re supposed to be focused on the victims, not rubbing shoulders NYPD and Washington D.C. brass. _ That’s what he tells himself. But he really can’t argue a point of ethicality when Holden agrees to teach a three-month long course on their techniques to local police officers from a number of different cities surrounding Quantico. 

The evening after Ted asks Holden if he’s interested, Holden pitches it to Bill in their living room over beer and leftover popcorn. 

“It’s three months.” Holden says, “I’ll have to grade papers and prepare a curriculum, but it won’t be that difficult. It’s really just an expansion of road school.”

“Road school was a couple hours in the evening, maybe two days a week.” Bill points out. “This sounds really involved.”

“It is an Academy level class.” Holden says, “I’ll basically be condensing what we teach the new recruits for the BSU.”

Bill represses a sigh. 

“What?” Holden asks, “You think I can’t handle it?”

“We have a lot on our plate already.” Bill says, “I don’t want to see you burn yourself out.”

“I can do it.” Holden says, “Both Gregg and Jim have a lot of experience, and they’re just as good as us when it comes to interviews now. Plus, we’ve got the four new recruits, and they’re almost done with training.”

Bill raises his hands. “I’m not arguing. It’s a good idea to share what we’ve learned with local cops. I started road school, didn’t I?”

“You could try to sound less grumpy.”

“I’m not.” 

“Fine.” Holden says, sounding unconvinced. “But, trust me, I can handle it.”

Bill rubs a hand over his face, and exhales a weary sigh as Holden leaves the room, muttering irritation under his breath. 

Holden is forever coaxing him to admit his feelings aloud, imploring that if Bill would just say what he’s thinking the first time around it would be better for everyone. But, he’s officially over the hill, and you can’t teach old dogs new tricks. He clings to his pride, unwilling to admit that while Holden sure as hell can handle teaching  _ and  _ consults, it’s Bill who might not be able to deal with the even longer stretches of absences between them. 

For the next few weeks, Holden devotes all his free time to preparing the curriculum for the class. When they’re not in the office or out of state for a consult, he’s hunched over his desk in the study, scribbling notes and typing out worksheets and handouts. He digs out all of the old case files to find examples, and uses push pins to hang them on the corkboard above the desk. When the corkboard is full, he tapes crime scene photos and profiles to the surrounding wall. 

He seems so invigorated and excited about teaching the class that Bill can’t find it within himself to hang onto his frustration.  _ It seems silly anyway _ , he thinks.  _ They spend practically every day together.  _

Still, the absences don’t really start to hit home until Holden is three weeks into teaching the class and also juggling at least four active cases from across the country. Because the people attending are police officers, the classes are held in the evenings, leaving Bill home alone or out on consult by himself three nights out of the week, sometimes more frequently if one or both of them are out of town. When Holden isn’t teaching, he’s focusing on the active cases he’s remotely consulting for. 

On the nights that Bill crawls into bed alone, he shoves down the sense of disappointment he feels staring across the sheets at the vacant pillow beside him. On the occasion that Holden is at home and following the same sleeping patterns as Bill, he’s too exhausted to offer little more than a kiss on the cheek before collapsing into immediate slumber.

_ Soon the class will be over. Only two more months.  _ Bill consoles himself. But the world seems to be moving at the speed of light these days, and Holden right along with it. 

~

In the dead silence of the house, Holden’s shoes shuffle loudly across the carpet, and he can practically hear the buzz of alcohol in his veins. Some of the cops in his class tonight had convinced him to go out for a drink with them once the lecture concluded. He’d resisted for only a moment before giving in. He hasn’t gone out for a drink in weeks. In between consults and the class, he hasn’t had much time to think, let alone unwind long enough to enjoy a drink. 

It was a welcome respite, but as Holden eases the door shut behind him, and scans the dark corners of the house, the carousing joy of the bar fades into the background. He can hear the click of the faucet dripping in the kitchen, and the tick of the clock hanging above the mantle. Half a dozen cigarettes are stamped out in the ashtray on the coffee table. The little fixtures of their life feel like a distant, foreign backdrop to his drunken brain for a split, sickening second. 

Holden leans back against the wall, rubbing both hands over his face. Suddenly, he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of how much responsibility he’s given himself. 

_ Maybe Bill was right.  _ The thought surfaces in the back of his mind, but he’s too tipsy to examine it in much detail. 

Staggering down the hallway, Holden pauses in the door of their bedroom to strip out of his clothes. 

Moonlight slants past the curtains, bathing the tousled bedsheets in pale, pewter light. Bill is sprawled on his belly, his face turned toward the door and half-buried in the pillow. His bare shoulders rise and fall with deep, steady breaths, caught up in dreams. 

The weight of just how much Holden has missed him these past several weeks grips him with abrupt force in the chest, and he doesn’t care that it’s almost midnight. 

Leaving his clothes on the floor of the threshold, Holden crawls onto the bed, and nuzzles a kiss to Bill’s nape. He presses close as Bill stirs, muttering a raspy sound in the back of his throat. Trailing a hand down Bill’s spine, Holden pushes aside the sheets to fondle the curve of his backside. 

“Holden?” Bill mutters, his eyelids fluttering open to squint drowsily in the moonlight. 

“Honey, I’m home.” Holden whispers coyly, spreading his kisses across Bill’s shoulder blade. 

“What’re you doing?” Bill asks, sounding annoyed despite the obvious lack of resistance in his body melting beneath Holden’s kisses. 

“I missed you.” Holden says, shifting up onto his hands and knees to continue pressing kisses down Bill’s back. “And I’m a little horny.”

“Christ, are you drunk?” Bill asks, lifting his head from the pillow. 

“Maybe.” 

Bill rolls over suddenly, interrupting the gradual rain of kisses. Propping himself up on his elbow, he pins Holden with a tired gaze. “Now you miss me? Now that it’s twelve o’clock at night?” 

Holden sighs, and leans back on his heels. “I’m sorry it’s so late. I shouldn’t have had that last drink.”

Bill grunts a sound of dwindling exasperation, and leans back against the headboard with his hands laced behind his neck. 

“I didn’t say you had to stop.” He says, “But don’t expect me to put in any work.”

“I guess that’s fair.” Holden says, crawling forward to drape himself against Bill’s chest.

He nudges his nose gently against Bill’s, searching for any lingering resistance, but Bill tilts his mouth willingly to Holden’s. Their mouths caress back and forth in subdued, yet yearning strokes before Holden draws back, exhaling a heavy sigh. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. 

“You already said that.”

“No, I know. I meant about the last few weeks. How busy I’ve been. I feel like I’ve been ignoring this -  _ us _ .”

“We’re both busy.” Bill says, but the remark, which he’d meant to sound reassuring, comes out strained. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t.” Holden says, running a hand over Bill’s chest. “It’s okay to say you miss me, you know.”

Bill’s eyes are guarded in the milky moonlight, but the defense is easily penetrable for Holden. He knows all of Bill’s tells and tics, his deflections and affects. He’s just been ignoring them since the class started. 

“I don’t want to hold you back from doing something you enjoy.” Bill says finally, rubbing an absent hand down Holden’s arm. 

“I know, but sometimes I wish …”

“What?” 

“I wish you would be selfish with me.” Holden whispers, leaning in closer to graze a slow kiss against the corner of Bill’s mouth. “Say you want me.”

Bill’s breath hitches in the back of his throat. One hand rises to sink into the hair at Holden’s nape, gently guiding him closer. 

“I do.” He murmurs, “I want you.”

Holden gasps softly as Bill pushes away from the headboard, and turns Holden onto his back. He nudges between Holden’s legs, and his hips come down, pinning Holden to the sheets. In the pale light of the bedroom, Holden can see the flush of need building on his cheeks and flashing in his eyes. 

“I thought you said you weren’t doing any of the work.” Holden whispers. 

“Shut your mouth.” Bill whispers, but there’s a thread of amusement in his tone as he bends down to smother any further retorts with a kiss. 

Grabbing Holden’s wrists, Bill drags his arms above his head while the kiss evolves into a persistent, biting stroke of teeth and tongue. Holden opens his mouth to the press of Bill’s tongue, moaning as the taste cuts past the thick glaze of alcohol. The numb, tipsy hum spills into the throb of need, spinning dizzy circles behind his fluttering eyelids. 

Bill's mouth lets up, allowing Holden to moan aloud while he kisses lower, down Holden’s chest and belly. His fingers hook beneath Holden’s underwear, dragging the fabric away from his quickly swelling cock. 

Holden’s pulsing erection slides free, breathing and growing achingly against the touch of cool air. He squirms, biting at his lower lip to silence the desperate cry building in the back of his throat. Every inch of him feels insatiably hungry for Bill’s touch, as if he’s been starving for weeks but ignoring the building ache. It’s impossible now to ignore, a tide of arousal drowning his veins, his logic, everything but this. 

The unbridled throb centers as Bill’s mouth reaches his cock. The coarse, warm grasp of his palm circles the root, forcing Holden’s cock up from his belly and to the stroke of his tongue. The first caress is slow, weaving across the leaking slit, taking just a taste and leaving Holden gasping and aching with arousal. 

“Oh God …” Holden whines, shooting a delirious gaze downward to see Bill’s mouth wrapping around the swollen tip. His head drops back against the sheets as a dizzying wave of arousal devastates him, carried away by the slick pressure of lips and tongue. 

Bill lets him enjoy the divine touch for mere seconds before allowing Holden’s cock to slide from his mouth and back to his belly; but the devouring caress doesn’t stop there. Grasping the undersides of Holden’s thighs, he pushes his legs up against his chest, and mouths his way down Holden’s balls and cleft. 

Holden cries out, his fists tearing at the sheets as Bill’s tongue introduces itself to his hole. Bill’s grip on his thighs is crushing, holding him firmly in place even as his body trembles and bucks helplessly against the slick, swirling pressure of his tongue. 

“Yes, yes.” Holden gasps as his body flashes hot with approaching pleasure. 

He reaches down to grab at his cock, encouraging the need churning through him. Bill’s tongue penetrates him, fucking his pulsing hole gently yet resolutely. 

“Jesus, Bill.” Holden pants, rubbing his thumb hard across the swollen, damp head of his cock. 

Bill pauses, his breath spilling hot across Holden’s wet hole. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes, please.” Holden whispers, biting at his lower lip as the pleasure hums low in his belly, kept close to the edge by the stroke of his hand. 

Bill licks him slowly, all the way down the cleft, every inch claimed, marked. 

Holden shudders, choking on a sound of pleasure. 

Bill’s tongue retreats, but his mouth stays close, fanning warm breath along the taut underside of Holden’s balls. 

“I’m going to fuck you.” Bill whispers, his voice a low, earthy vibration. 

Holden nods into the darkness, unable to conjure a reply from the heat washing up his throat and cheeks. 

“Hard.” Bill adds, softly. 

Holden bites back a whimper as Bill rises, letting Holden’s legs spill limply from his chest. 

“Turn over.” Bill says. 

Holden rolls onto his stomach, his whole body tense, on the knife’s edge of pleasure. 

Bill reaches across him to the nightstand where the Vaseline is waiting in the drawer. Neither of them have touched it in the past few weeks, but the sharp smell of it when the lid comes off triggers a Pavlovian burn and clench of desire across Holden’s raw nerve-endings. 

Bill grabs Holden by the hips, lifting him up onto his knees. Holden goes compliantly, keeping his face down against the mattress, the sheets drawn to his mouth by his trembling fist. 

The first stroke of Bill’s fingers rubbing the Vaseline into his hole forces a helpless groan to the back of Holden’s throat. He leans back against the slight pressure, hardly breathing as Bill coats the lubricant around the puckered opening with his thumb. The circling caress narrows until it’s applying direct pressure to his hole, and Bill’s thumb slowly slips inside. 

Holden moans into the fistful of sheets. His spine arches uncontrollably, and Bill grasps him by the hip to draw him back in. He rubs his thumb in gently, locating Holden’s prostate with ease and teasing it just long enough to make Holden whimper in desperation. 

“Fuck, please.” Holden whispers, dragging the sheets away from his mouth to beg. 

Bill’s hand retreats, but Holden’s groin is still tingling, everything clamped taut with the idea of release. When the touch returns, he uses one finger to slick Holden inside and out with the Vaseline, and then two to slowly work him open. 

Holden groans as his body adjusts eagerly to the pressure even while his cock twitches hungrily between his thighs. He thinks of touching himself because a few good strokes just might do him in, but he wants to make this moment last, especially if it’s only a respite between impossibly long hours. He lets the need stir and writhe and ache while Bill works him open, muting the choked sounds of need behind his clenched jaw. 

When Bill’s fingers slide out of him again, Holden waits impatiently for the real satisfaction to come. 

Bill quickly oils his cock with the Vaseline, and presses up behind Holden. The hot, thick weight of cock slides between Holden’s ass cheeks, priming the sensitized skin with a teasing, introductory caress. 

Holden arches back against the lazy thrust, gasping, “Yes.”

Bill’s palms settle over his cheeks, stretching him open, and guiding him back into the searching pressure. His cock head finds the opening, thrusting slowly inside, driving a gasp from Holden’s throat. The aching pressure mounts, gradually splitting him open until he feels every inch of the shaft go in, and he’s so full with cock and arousal that he feels like he could explode. 

“Jesus. Fuck.” Holden groans, clutching at the bed sheets to ground himself as his body, drunk with alcohol and need, threatens to buckle beneath the first determined thrust. 

Bill’s hands steady him, dragging Holden’s trembling hips back against the adamant thrust of his cock. He grunts quietly as his hips slap against Holden’s backside, bringing them together at the deepest point. 

“Fuck.” He whispers, his voice shaking. He rubs a hand down Holden’s spine, keeping him pinned down as he slips into a gradual yet steady rhythm. “Fuck, baby, that’s good.”

Holden groans, shuddering beneath the resolute pace of Bill’s cock going into his longing body. He can already feel himself coming apart at the seams, an unbearable ache stemming from deep inside him that yearns to be eased and rubbed raw again and again. 

“Yes.” Holden responds, his voice trembling. “Harder.”

Bill hums a pleased reply, and wastes little time in fulfilling the request. His pace quickens, hips slapping against Holden’s backside with every thrust. The bedsprings begin to groan beneath them as the rhythm fixes itself into something like frustrated hunger that doesn’t quite verge on desperation; it’s wild and fiery and deep, searching for a well of satisfaction buried deep inside, searching for an answer to the longing that has stretched out between them for far too long. 

Holden gasps as Bill’s cock ruts into him, just the right angle to rub up against his prostate with every entrance. He can feel his insides clamping down tight, burning and aching with powerful arousal. It feels beyond his control as his hand slips underneath of him to find his cock bouncing, aching and rigid, between his thighs. 

“God, fuck, yes.” Holden gasps, his eyes rolling back in blinding pleasure as his hand sweeps across his weeping cock. 

Bill’s thrusts reach an even faster pace, the kind that has Holden aching, feeling like his body is going to crumble beneath the powerful blows. He hangs onto the dwindling edges of reality for what feels like a small eternity, his mind fixed on the reward of pleasure gleaming just beyond his fingertips, before with a sudden full bodied spasm, the orgasm breaks open inside him. He comes hard, spilling abundant gushes of pent-up release between his fingers and across the sheets, draining him of every last drop of tension he’d unwittingly been holding inside. 

As the climax abates, Holden’s sensitized body becomes aware again of Bill’s cock thrusting into him. Every powerful stroke makes his nerve-endings scream and his limbs tremble, and he can feel his legs buckling even as Bill’s grip on his hips keeps him in place. 

“Oh, fuck …” Bill gasps, his voice shaking as the pleasure approaches. 

Holden clings to the sheets, his mouth stretched open in a silent cry. Inside, his mind is screaming  _ yes, take me _ , but every inch of him feels too overwhelmed and destroyed by pleasure to scrape together more than a helpless whimper. 

Finally, with a strangled groan, Bill’s hips seize against his backside. His trembling fingers clamp tighter around Holden’s hips, sealing their bodies together as his hips begin to spasm. The hot rush of release jetting into him draws a sharp gasp from the back of Holden’s throat, followed by a pleased sigh. 

As Bill’s spasms fade, he carefully pulls out with a muted groan, and sinks back on his heels. 

Holden’s body crumples to the sheets, weak, drained, and trembling. 

“God, Bill ..” He whispers, uttering a groan. “That was …”

“More than you bargained for, drunk, at twelve-thirty at night?” Bill asks, chuckling quietly. 

“No. It was exactly what I needed.”

Bill crawls up beside him, and settles down on his side, his elbow propped underneath of him. He uses his other hand to draw a soft line down Holden’s spine with his fingertips. 

“I did miss you.” He admits, quietly. 

“I know.” Holden whispers, turning his cheek against the sheets to peek up at Bill’s somber expression. 

“If I’m honest, I fucking hate this.” Bill says, scoffing despite the lack of amusement in his voice. “The class and consulting. Never seeing you. All of it.”

Holden purses his lips as a sudden wave of guilt hits him in the chest. 

“I don’t want you to quit.” Bill adds. “I know you’re not a quitter, and I wouldn’t want you to be. I just … I had to tell you.”

“I know. I’m wondering myself if taking on the class was a good idea.”

“You are?” Bill asks, his fingers pausing against Holden’s lower back. 

“Yeah. Next year, I’ll let someone else teach it.” Holden says, “I just had to know that I could.”

“You always do.” Bill says, bending down to kiss him on the shoulder. “You always have to push yourself to the limit and then wonder why you’re exhausted. Sometimes, it’s the right choice to just come home at night.”

Holden presses his eyes shut, fighting back the sudden sting of tears. He’s just tired, drunk, exhausted, overwrought. Things will look better after a good night’s sleep, but Bill is right, too. 

“Fine.” He says, at last. “In the future, I’ll try harder to pace myself if you promise to tell me when you’re feeling neglected. At the beginning, not three weeks later.”

Bill casts him an irritated glare for a moment before any kind of animosity melts away. He ducks his head, laughing softly. “Yeah, okay.” 

Holden pushes up onto his elbows to plant a kiss on Bill’s mouth. The kiss lingers, both of them relishing the connection that had fallen to the wayside. 

When Bill pulls back, he strokes Holden’s cheek. “Let’s get cleaned up, and get some sleep, okay?” 

“Okay.” Holden murmurs, turning his cheek into the touch. 

Half an hour later, they’re cleaned up, and back in bed. Holden settles down against the pillows with a contented sigh as Bill curls up behind him, his chest flush with Holden’s back. His arm wraps tightly around Holden’s waist, ensuring he stays close. Holden closes his eyes, feeling his exhaustion overcome him. For the first time in weeks, his mind doesn’t run away with thoughts on class or theories about a case; it stays firmly right where he is, wrapped up in Bill’s arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm [prinxcesskayy](https://prinxcesskayy.tumblr.com//) on Tumblr!  
> 


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